


One Last Ride

by MsMorpheus



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMorpheus/pseuds/MsMorpheus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock misses Nora (SS) when she travels without him, and realizes how much she means to him. Bittersweet but don't worry, no one dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Unf Hancock. I find myself stopping in to Goodneighbor once in a while when I'm travelling with someone else, just to make sure he's okay.
> 
> I used the default Nora for SS here, but substitute whatever you like of course...

Hancock leaned back in his chair and took a long drag on his last cigarette, holding the smoke deep in his lungs as long as he could, burning with the drive to breathe and the need to hang on just a moment longer. Anything to take his mind off her. Stars were dancing behind his eyes by the time his lips opened, letting out a fat plume of smoke that lingered in the stale air of his stateroom, a foggy halo that scattered in swirls when Fahrenheit swung open his door and marched in. 

“Smells like something died in here, boss. More than usual. I’m worried about you.”

“Must be my new aftershave. It’s called Leave Me The Fuck Alone. You should try it sometime.” Fahrenheit opened her mouth as if to say something, eyed the shotgun cradled on the mayor’s lap, and decided to come back later. Much later. Hancock hadn’t talked much about his travels in the Commonwealth, but judging by the bender he’d been on since his return, she figured it hadn’t been a pleasant trip.

Hancock surveyed his kingdom of empty bottles and drug paraphernalia, sniffed at his coat sleeves and tried to remember the last time he’d washed it. Every muscle in his body ached. Travelling with Nora was a high like no other: the two of them against the world, dispensing kindness and bullets in equal measure. In between they shared meals and stories, growing closer as days turned to months. Hancock had come to realize, slowly at first then all at once, that he was happy. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to. He’d always known she’d eventually want to travel with someone else. It stung to lose her to a costumed clown like Deacon, but who was he to judge? “Your funeral”, he’d told her, and every time Hancock tried to sleep his brain insisted on remembering those words, rolling them around its whorls and folds until he wanted to cut out his tongue to take them back. 

Forgetting her wasn’t working. He wondered if it would be easier if he’d been the one to leave her behind. The sun was setting when she walked off into the Commonwealth with Deacon: he didn’t say anything else, still startled from the big hug she gave him, ear tingling where she’d whispered “Take care of yourself, Hancock. I’ll see you in Goodneighbor.” That was months ago. She might have met her end with a deathclaw’s slash or a raider ambush, an ancient trap or a nuke-toting mutant: he had no way of knowing unless he came across a piece of her someday. He’d wanted to go after her when she left him, but the late evening sun was bathing her hair so perfectly in golden light, caressing the curve of her ass as she walked, illuminating her features when she turned around and smiled at him like a fucking angel. All he could do was grin back.

It hurt to think of her, but it felt as though something deep inside him had been pried loose, like a sore tooth beginning to wiggle. Hancock rose from his chair, stumbling with stiff joints and dizzy head, knocking over the coffeetable but managing to maneuver himself onto the couch. There were three Mentats left in the tin in his coat pocket: he downed them all with a half-carton of dirty water. Heightened perception, heightened intelligence: damned if he wasn’t going to face this head on. He stretched out on the couch, tucked a pillow under his head, took off his hat and put it over his face, and waited for the ride to start.

His brain took him to Sanctuary. His heart protested and began to ache, but he couldn’t remember why. Lights hung from garlands on wires above, the night air full of the inviting smell of cooking fires and exhaust from humming generators. Settlers milled about looking tired but cheerful, making their way to warm beds, fully expecting to survive the night and to find ample food and water waiting for them in the morning. Sanctuary was Nora’s safe place, the first of many, but she never spent much time there. He hadn’t asked her why.

When he asked Codsworth where she was, Hancock had the uncomfortable feeling the robot was sizing him up. It pointed to a ruined house farther up the street. Hancock found Nora alone with an empty crib, taking a few toys out of her pack and placing them neatly on the dresser. The memory engulfed him and he felt like he was drowning. _No. Make it stop._ Nora turned to look at him, face wan and half in shadow, the light snuffed out of her eyes. It was the moment Hancock realized why she never talked about the past. Her mouth opened and she seemed to shatter, as though only her skin was holding together all of her broken pieces. Her pain tore through him, but Hancock took her in his arms, held her as she screamed and sobbed, and when she ran out of tears he carried her over to her old bedroom, stroking her hair until she fell asleep, keeping vigil until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. 

He woke up to the unpleasantness of sunlight on his face, fresh air streaming in through open windows. A rough homespun blanket was draped over him, and his tricorn had been dusted off and placed on the table, now cleared of junk and set upright. He sat up too quickly, hands rushing to support his pounding head, and looked around for Nora until he realized that the ride was over and he was back in his stateroom. No matter, he remembered the rest of it now: how he’d woken up with Nora curled against him, his hand rising and falling with her ribcage as she breathed, the look she gave him when she opened her eyes, how soft and smooth her lips felt when she kissed his forehead. Not many women would be happy to wake up next to a ghoul. He saw her differently after that, knew she was stronger and more vulnerable than he’d realized. Much to his surprise, his impure thoughts started to end with her curled up in his arms.

Hancock thought of Nora, wondering where she was now. If she was alive, she’d be building settlements and taking care of herself out in the Commonwealth. He thought of his own people, of the town he’d been neglecting, of Fahrenheit who took care of him anyway. He looked around at the debris of one ride after another, enough bottles and chems to start a small empire and nothing but stench and misery to show for it.

He picked up his hat and put in on, smoothed his lapels, walked over to the mirror and noticed bile stains on his coat. 

Time to get your shit together, John Hancock.


End file.
